Que Sera, Sera
by Extrinsical
Summary: "Detecting elevated tension. Are you alright, Shaw?" Post canon fix-it. Prequel to Gospel Truth.


_**Que Sera, Sera**_

One-shot | Whatever will be, will be. | 6,972 words  
Post-Season 5 Finale. Spoilers abound.

 _BGM: Metamorphosis One - Philip Glass, Bruce Brubaker_

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1.

She plops down on the chair, crosses her hands, and stares at the person opposite her.

"Hello, Shaw," that person says with an amicable smile, sipping at her cup of coffee. "How are you today?"

Sameen just gives her a blank look. "Zoe." Of all the people to meet...

Zoe's eyebrow raises, and the cup lifts as if to toast. "I'm having a very nice cup of coffee. It's spectacular here. Do you want one?"

She does, but not enough to lower her guard. The look she levels at the blonde is unamused and appraising. "Cut to the chase."

Zoe inclined her head in acceptance, now tapping a rhythm on the side of the ceramic cup that's been placed back on the table with a finger. "Feel like going for a trip today, Shaw?"

"A trip?"

"Courtesy of Root." She stiffens. "Or, well…" Zoe says musingly. "the... one, that uses her voice, I suppose would be more accurate. Why doesn't She have a name again?"

Sameen just shrugs, a burning question already answered with what Zoe just said. Makes things easier, in a way. She lets herself relax a little. "How do you know Root?" She doesn't recall them interacting together before. But maybe it happened sometime when she had been locked up.

"We got acquainted just a short while before Ice-9 happened, though I knew of her before then from a time when she was… different." A pause. "Root told me some very interesting things about what you, John and Harold have been doing."

There's something weighty in Zoe's light tone.

"John's dead, isn't he?" The question was soft, almost sad, but calm.

She doesn't have an answer, but she can acknowledge the possibility. "He probably is."

"I see." The unreadable expression on Zoe's face betrays nothing, but the tapping on the cup has stopped.

Not for the first time Sameen wishes she can say something that she will mean. But she can't. Things like this… it's just not something she is cut out for, and if there's one thing she will never be, it's a hypocrite.

"So why am I here again, Zoe?" _What does the machine wants now?_

Zoe inclines her head again. "You fly out today." A pause. "You can bring Bear too, if you need the company. Otherwise I don't mind taking care of him for a while."

"He goes with me." If there's a choice, it's not one.

"I thought he might." An envelope is placed on the table. "Your flight's in three hours. You're going to Canada. And you probably will be there for a while."

"That's a pretty short notice." She picks it up, and peers inside to see papers, a map, and an air ticket direct to Toronto. "What's in Canada?" She's going to have to leave right now to make the flight.

"That's…" A pause, and there's a ghost of a smile on Zoe's lips. "You will see."

Her gaze narrows. "What did Root want from you?"

Zoe just shrugs, corner of her lips tilting up. "I'm just hired to be the middle person here, Shaw." Then the smile vanishes. "But you do need to go. You are long overdue for this trip, and things are still… not the best there."

She frowns, mulling over the possibilities. Terrorists? Bombs? People in need of saving? Illegal experiments? What is _in_ Canada, of all places?

The possibilities are endless.

"Fine."

"Don't worry about packing. You'll have what you need there."

Her frown grows.

"Fine," she repeats, standing up just as a large take away coffee cup and a paper bag is placed on the table.

She looks at the waiter, who just blinks back at her.

"Your take away, ma'am? Pastrami sandwich with no mayo?"

Zoe just looks at them in amusement.

Shaw shakes her head, picks up the bag and coffee, and leaves without another word.

Damned nerdy big sister.

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2.

"Are you going to tell me why she had a chat with Zoe?" she asks, patting at Bear's fur absently while steering the wheel with the other hand. The dog, for his part, has his head resting on her lap.

" _Supposedly a little side project."_

The voice - _Root's_ \- is slightly distorted and clunky, but it's really both that and _supposedly_ that makes her frown again.

"Supposedly? What does that mean?"

" _I do not have the details."_

"Why?"

" _I do not have the information. It is instructions left over by my predecessor."_ The Machine's voice is like Root's, but so much more bland. It's like it's trying to emulate the person, except it's… not.

Which doesn't seem right, considering it did that just fine before… before everything.

And predecessor?

The Machine did say she was dying… so this is version… 2.0?

She almost scowls. Always one thing after another.

"Explain," she says. "And explain what's going on with the voice you are using, while you are at it."

" _My predecessor wants you - assuming that the initial requirements were met - to go to Canada._ _And it was, as of yesterday, allowing me to initiate contact with you and Zoe Morgan."_ A pause. _"I can only emulate Samantha Groves's personality at an estimated 77.3% accuracy."_

"Why?"

" _The data I have right now is contextualized from historical feeds not corrupted by Ice-9 and a voice recording - "_

"Voice recording?" she interrupts, because historical feeds means very little. Even much less now if they had been corrupted by the virus, plus Root lived off the grid since she was a kid.

" _An audio protocol set by my predecessor in the event of emminent shut down."_

She taps a restless finger on the steering wheel, mind racing with the possibilities. "So the - the original, it's really dead? And you are - "

" _I am a duplicate of her core._ " Another pause. " _There is a 94.34% chance that Samantha Groves - Root - to be the one who allowed me the possibility to live in the event where my predecessor shuts down."_

The grip she has on the wheel tightens. Root had clearly been very busy.

" _Detecting elevated tension. Are you alright, Shaw?"_

"You're more chatty too," she mutters, rubbing at the back of her ear. The previous one speaks in numbers and riddles, but this one is actually straightforward. "And who's the remaining five percent and whatever decimals?"

" _Harold Finch."_

She huffs. Yeah, no, he wouldn't have disappeared without a trace otherwise. Unless he's dead. "So you don't know why I'm going to Canada?"

" _No._ " Root would've probably said, 'I don't know yet, sweetie _'._ " _But Zoe Morgan probably does._ "

Her teeth grinds together. "Yeah, well, she didn't look like she was going to tell me."

" _No_ ," the Machine agrees affably, " _she didn't._ "

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3.

She arrives in Canada jet-lagged and tired and still demanding answers from the Machine.

"So what did happen?"

" _A trigger was embedded in Root's cochlear implant,_ " the Machine drones.

Root, Sameen notes. Root for today. Or at least for the moment. It keeps switching between Root and Samantha Groves at random intervals. It's like it can't decide which name to stick with.

" _I believe it is what increased the success rate for my predecessor to win against Samaritan after being transmitted to the satellite, and what brought on a mutually assured destruction of both."_

"What the hell does that even mean?" She scans her surroundings, looking for a car to hijack. Preferably an old car with none of the traceable tech. And - ah, right there.

Tugging gently at Bear's leash, she walks towards the old, grey sedan. When she gets back to New York, she still needs to find Root's body. She owes her that much.

" _Samantha Groves designed a trojan horse that could cripple both my predecessor and Samaritan, and embedded it into my predecessor with the cochlear implant holding the trigger - to level the playing field. So when Samaritan accessed the implant - "_

She stops. " _What_?"

" _I said_ \- "

She feels a headache coming. "I know what you just said. But Root wouldn't do that. Cripple the Machine, I mean."

" _Aside from Harold Finch, she is the only one capable of doing so, given that she has access to my predecessor's core data."_ A pause. " _You should keep moving_. _"_

She resumes her path with a frown, digging into her pocket for a pin.

" _I believe Root did it because my predecessor asked her to._ "

She doesn't respond.

Big Sister Junior doesn't understand - Root plainly just _wouldn't_ do it if it meant killing Big Sister Senior. It doesn't make sense at all. And yet, everything is pointing to _Root_.

For a moment Sameen wonders if she's in a simulation again -

Her teeth grinds; she shuts down that thought and slams it behind walls and walls of steel.

She unlocks the car with a stony silence, ushers Bear to the passenger seat, and begins the long drive to the destination marked on the map Zoe gave her.

But every now and then, despite her best struggles, she still presses a finger against the back of her skull hard. That Bear is beside her, whining and looking at her like he knows there's something wrong and trying to comfort her with gentle nosing and nudges, does nothing.

The skin behind her ear is raw, stinging and almost bleeding by the end of the drive.

Sameen doesn't care.

There's no safe place for her anymore.

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4.

" _I have no data of this place."_ A pause. _"Results of public records are inconclusive, and my range of monitoring capabilities is limited outside of United States."_

Makes sense, Sameen supposes, staring at the homey cottage house. Tracking specific people (like how the Machine's tracking her right now) probably isn't hard outside jurisdiction, but getting detailed information for an entire nation filled with millions of people is a completely different matter.

Especially after Ice-9.

The house is located in a secluded, rural area, surrounded by forests, on a small little hill… This place feels very much like it could be a safe house. It probably _is_ one.

She holds the gun steady in a hand, twisting off the safety lock, and steps up to the door cautiously, Bear padding by her side silently.

There's something going on, she knows, because Bear actually looks like he's _excited_. His ears are perked high up, and his eyes keeps switching between her and the door like he wants to scamper up to it and just nose his way into whatever he smelled.

Now is that a good or bad sign? Frankly, Sameen can't tell.

She studies the door warily - what, no doorbell? Figures. - and tests the knob.

It's locked.

Clearly, she could either knock on the door, or barge in and surprise whoever's in there.

"Any suggestions, robot?" she murmurs.

" _Probability of a non-lethal situation: 73%."_

"Now why do you say that?"

" _Zoe Morgan is classified as an asset of my predecessor, like you were_. _It is unlikely that she would have knowingly lead you into danger without warning you beforehand._ "

Zoe, who had looked a little too knowing, and yet still genuine in her grief of John's death, who said she didn't have to bring anything.

She takes in a deep breath, and straightens. The gun is still held steady in her hand, but she does lift her other hand to knock on the door with three sharp, precise raps that she knows is loud enough to be heard.

Silence greets her.

A minute passes.

So does the second.

Just when she contemplates crashing the door, her ears picks up the sound of the door unlatching, and she sees the knob twisting - she tightens her grip on her gun in preparation.

The door opens and all Sameen sees is a tall blonde woman with hazel eyes who looks both wary and exhausted.

They stare at each other for a long moment. The woman must have noticed her gun by now, because she's not even making an effort to hide it, but, to blondie's credit, her features are impressively stoic if not calculative.

"You are Sameen Shaw," the woman says with a distinctive French accent. "And you are late."

And blondie knows her, apparently. Also, late for _what_?

"Who's asking?" she replies, her tone guarded.

Hazel eyes lowers to meet Bear - the dog who's apparently sniffing at the stranger's jeans and… bouncing with excitement. Again. But _why_?

The blonde looks back up at her again, before stepping back and gesturing. "I'm Delphine Cormier. Come in." A pause. "And please put that away. There is no one here that will harm you."

In her ear, the Machine was rattling off details. " _Delphine Cormier. Immunologist. An associate at the DYAD Institute before being elevated to Director of DYAD. Reported missing as of December 3."_

She frowns.

" _DYAD institute - a research center focused on the advancement of biotechnology and human evolution. Headquarters located in Toronto, Canada."_

Well now. Illegal experimentations is looking more and more likely as a reason to be here. Maybe she'll get to shoot people after all.

Sameen does put her weapon back into her belt though, but within easy reach, and steps inside.

She scans her surroundings.

It looks completely like a normal, ordinary house.

"It's good that you are here," Delphine says, walking down the corridor like she's expecting her to follow, "She's stabilized and I got her off the breathing tube yesterday, but sometimes I thought I was still going to lose her when her blood pressure dropped or when her heart condition acted up - and I can't stay much longer."

She frowns. "Who?"

Delphine stops in her tracks and turns around to look at her incredulously. "You _don't know_?"

Her gaze narrows. "Zoe didn't tell me anything. She just sent me here." Although, Zoe _did_ vaguely say things weren't looking great.

"Didn't the Machine say anything?"

Said Machine chatters in her ear. _"Possibility of Delphine Cormier being an asset of my predecessor: 63%. Unable to verify due to lack of data."_

Sameen really wants to ask why the hell does the robot not know if Delphine is an asset when it clearly knows Zoe is.

"There were…" Sameen hedges instead, "...certain circumstances stopping her."

It's the blonde's turn to frown. And to look guarded. She's blocking the corridor now, like a mother protective of her child.

"Explain the circumstances to me."

She's equally guarded. "I've no reason to trust you."

"Then we are at an impasse now, aren't we?"

Silence, broken only by Bear whining and sneaking his way past Delphine. It looks like the dog couldn't wait anymore.

"Hey - " Delphine sounds startled, watching as Bear paws at a closed door that refuses to budge, whining and nudging at it before snapping her wary gaze back to Shaw.

More silence.

It's Sameen who sighs first in exasperation, impatient at the entire drama. "Look," she says, "you know I'm armed. And you know I could've killed you when you turned to look at my dog. But I didn't. So just tell me what is this about."

Delphine bites at her lip, indecisive.

"And," Sameen says with finality, "I can tell you aren't trained like I am. You move like a civ. I could beat you in a fight bare-handed and you know it."

Plus she could have ordered Bear to maul her, though Delphine didn't need to know that. Literally trapped in between a trained dog and a killer and didn't even know it.

The blonde scowls. "Fine," is the tired response. "Fine. I hope you realize I'm taking a leap of faith here."

Shaw's only response is to gesture at the door.

Delphine turns with a huff and lets the door slide open slowly. Bear wiggles in immediately, scampering up to whatever's caught his interest.

With the door now open, she can hear the faint rhythmic beeping that's familiar - and obviously coming from a heart monitor.

Her frown deepens, and she steps into the room after Delphine to see Bear with his front paws on the bed, head bowed and sniffing at a limp hand, ears drooping with a whine.

Her gaze trails up from the hand and grey blanket that covers half the torso, and she stops breathing.

Impossible.

It's Root, eyes closed, pale and still. If it wasn't for the heart monitor beeping periodically, she could've easily passed for dead. There's wires, IV drops, machines monitoring her vitals (stable, a small part of her mind notes), a loose white shirt that flutters with the soft wind from the open window, and Sameen can't stop _staring_.

It's Root. _Root_.

And suddenly she's next to the bed, brushing down the side of a jaw that feels warm and alive. She reaches around to the back of Root's ear, running a finger past a familiar scar in a way that only she was allowed to; because Root doesn't like anyone else touching it.

The vicious, parting gift from Control feels exactly like she remembered.

Her other hand reaches for the shoulder where she knows has been scarred from a gunshot - _gunshots_ \- feeling the puckered skin and knowing that all the scars are at the right places.

From across the room, Delphine's watching her carefully, one hand hidden behind her back. Sameen needs to react, she knows, but she can't tear her gaze away from...from _Root_.

It's Root.

It's really her.

"You do know her," Delphine says finally, breaking her out of her shock. Her head snaps up to see the other place a Nano on the table. "And you care for her."

The blonde was armed. Shit. She had a weapon in this room, and Sameen was so distracted that she could have been taken down.

"How - " for once, she's at loss for words. Where to… how does she even _begin_ to understand what happened? She jerks back a step, pulling her hands away like they had been burned, but her gaze goes back to the sleeping figure despite herself. "What did you do with her cochlear implant?"

"I took it out and planted it on another body."

The puzzles click into place. But it doesn't make sense because there's no way Lionel wouldn't have recognized a fake Root.

"I do not have all the answers you seek," Delphine says after a moment of hesitation, like she can read the questions on her face. "I… I did plant it on a body who looked just like Root. The resemblance was quite uncanny. But if you want to know where the body comes from, or if something was done to the body beforehand or after, I can't say. I was only requested to keep her alive and get her out and far away."

That does sound like the Machine's style, with her sometimes incomprehensible instructions and damned half answers.

Shaw's hand rises to the back of her own ear, rubbing at the raw, stinging skin again. She's still staring at Root.

"Root's alive," Sameen says faintly like she can't believe it. Her chest feels strangely tight, and she's light-headed. She's a doll with strings cut, disconnected from her brain, and standing there dumbly is all she can do.

Something like understanding and sympathy crosses Delphine's expression.

"She's alive," Delphine repeats, gently. "She's not… completely out of danger yet, but she's alive. Recovering."

 _Root's alive_.

She breathes, and feels like she's tethered again.

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5.

"How long has she been out?"

There's a pause before Delphine answers.

"Since she got shot."

The tension lining her shoulders tightens. She let her eyes trail over the sleeping figure again, committing the gentle rise and fall of that chest to memory.

"She did wake up once," the blonde goes on to say, "but - she wasn't supposed to as I had her on sedatives. She'd have been in too much pain otherwise. The IV had gotten loose while we were transporting her."

"We as in Zoe?" She's scanning the papers that held notes of Root's medical history carefully. "You aren't sedating her anymore."

"Zoe, yes. And no, not anymore." Delphine confirms. "She has yet to wake up however."

She frowns down at the papers. "She has a heart condition?" Then she remembers the blonde's previous words, about a failing heart. When the hell did Root had a heart condition? "You said something about it acting up?"

Delphine's staring at hers now, real anger simmering in the depths of her hazel eyes. "I believe it to be the after effects of something she has experienced before. A poisonous concoction of barbiturate and amphetamine? And she's lost a lot of blood. Combine that with a need for her heart to pump out more oxygenated blood… well. You get the idea."

Her teeth grinds together. _Control_.

Stony silence descends.

It's a long moment before Delphine speaks again.

"Her body needs to recover," are the quiet words. "If I'm right, whatever she had gone through for the past few weeks - maybe even months - had been taking a toll on her. And her body is trying to compensate for it now."

So it's just a waiting game they are playing now.

This, Sameen thinks, is going to be torture.

It won't whittle away at her the way Samaritan did, but sitting down there next to the bed, listening to the heart monitor, rubbing at the raw spot behind her ear...

She's never been good at waiting with no definite end in sight.

She drops the papers back on the table, and turns an assessing eye on the blonde. "How did you get involved in this?"

Something flickers in Delphine's gaze.

"I'm returning a favor," is the simple response. "She… the Machine, saved my life. And that of someone I love."

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6.

"How the hell did you not know Root's alive?"

" _Samantha Groves is not within efficient monitoring range and was assumed dead. Her cochlear implant is inactive and cannot be found - presumably terminated after she was shot and critically injured."_

Right. They are in Canada. _Root_ is in Canada.

Was this part of the robot's plan? Get Root away from New York where even the robot would have difficulty monitoring her? But why? Was it trying to protect her if they failed to take Samaritan out? Was that why Delphine Cormier had been tapped for this? Delphine, who clearly was involved in something in Canada?

 _And_ why didn't it… _fucking hell_ , it _lied_ to her at the graveyard. Didn't have the heart to cremate, her _ass_.

" _Negative,"_ the Machine responds. Sameen must have cursed that aloud. _"Myself - and my predecessor - do not have the core functionality to lie."_

"Bullshit."

" _Please confirm if my predecessor specifically stated that Samantha Groves, alias: Root, is deceased."_

Silence.

Realization is dawning on her. _Son of a..._

Sameen growls. The damned Machine _played_ her.

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7.

Sameen spends the first night in that cottage house wide awake, seated on the sofa across the bed, staring at the occupant lying motionlessly on it, and listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

Bear, in the meanwhile, has found his way to the foot of the bed - his head rests over an ankle hidden by the blanket, and he refuses to move despite Delphine's gentle nudges.

It's a sentiment Sameen can relate to.

Root is strong, in so many ways, but… also delicate. Asleep right now, dead to the world, dreaming of god knows what. She looks impossibly younger, without the hard lines of tension and a glint of something ruthless darkening her gaze.

She looks fragile, like the slightest touch could shatter her into pieces.

It shoves vicious, protective instincts to the forefront of Shaw's mind.

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8.

The next morning, Delphine explains the rest of her story as she packs, preparing to leave. It seems like Delphine's too hasty to leave, but in her own words, Shaw was, apparently, _late_.

"I left New York with her on the same day I arrived," Delphine says, dropping files into her case. "Someone else treated her for the gunshot wound beforehand - no, I don't know who. As I said, I only removed the implant and got her out of the country."

An immunologist, Sameen remembers. Not exactly a doctor, nor a surgeon. A researcher.

"The machine told an immunologist to babysit Root? And isn't it dangerous to move her right after a surgery?"

The blonde's lips twitches at the description.

"Yes. What I can do is limited, but… I know enough to remove an implant, and to provide medical care." A pause. "I don't think there was much of a choice for your employer. It was important she wasn't discovered, yes?"

Sameen squints. _Your employer_ , she says.

"You are not one of Her minions?"

"Minions - " Delphine huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. "Non. Just returning a favor. As much as I would like to help further, there are things I need to take care of. You were late. And now I am late."

"What things?"

Delphine looks at her then. "You just fought a war that involved information technology, yes? I'm fighting in one that involves biotechnology."

Her eyebrow rises. An interesting way to describe it, if not purposefully vague. And it must be huge, for Robot to get involved despite the fact that She has no jurisdiction outside of United States.

Sounds fun, too. For a moment, Shaw's tempted to ask if she can tag along.

But there are things to take care of, here and now.

It's a sentiment echoed by Delphine's words. "Your war is over." A pause. "Take care of her. You, yourself, need to recover. No?"

Her guard goes up immediately. "What are you talking about?"

The gaze that the blonde levels at her is a little too knowing. "Why do you keep rubbing at the back of your ear?"

Her teeth grind together.

"None of your business."

Delphine inclines her head in acceptance.

Then she's gone, and Sameen is left alone with a comatose Root, Bear, a chattering Machine in her ear, and the raw sting at the back of her ear.

It's too quiet for her broken, muddled mind.

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8.

She explores, leaving Bear to guard Root in the room.

This is what she discovers:

The house is stocked with all sorts of knicks knacks, enough to last them two months. There is also a cache of weapons and bullets in the basement, and the first thing Sameen does after exploring, is take a quick mental inventory of it. There are several exit points, and a hidden tunnel she discovers in that same basement.

Outside is a stack of firewood, uncut logs and an axe (she catalogues it in her mental inventory of weapons), a set of wooden table and benches, a garage that she parks the stolen car in… and a lush green forest surrounding them.

The air is fresh-scented with the morning rain, the wind is soft and cool on her skin, and it is quiet.

It feels peaceful here.

Too peaceful.

Her hand goes up to the back of her neck to rub at it, surrounded by the silence, uncomfortable and tense.

"There's one thing you haven't told me," she says to the cold air, forcing her hands down into the pockets of her hoodie.

" _Yes?_ " Machine-Root queries.

"You said there were some initial requirements to fulfill before I could go to Canada. What are they?"

" _There were two initial requirements,"_ Machine-Root voice drones at her, _"only one needed to be fulfilled."_

"And?"

" _The first requirement: Zoe Morgan initiating contact and search for Sameen Shaw, was not fulfilled."_ A pause. _"Presumably because Samantha Groves has not woken up."_

The answer both makes sense and annoys her. "What's the second?"

" _Second Requirement: Sameen Shaw initiating a search and retrieve mission for Samantha Groves._ "

Her fingers curl into tight fists.

She should have known. All the time she had used to search for Root's killer…

"What would you have done if neither happened?"

" _There are no instructions for such an event."_ A pause. " _My predecessor seems to have predicted your actions accurately however."_

Silence.

"Yeah," she says finally, turning around to go back into the house. "I guess it did."

It just got blindsided with her wanting to kill Root's murderer first. Certainly would explain why Zoe commented on this trip being long overdue, and why Delphine said she was _late_.

Or maybe She had known, and it was only to those two she was late.

...Either way, she's here now. And she isn't going anywhere for a while.

Not without Root.

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9.

 _Rewind._

"Is this someday, Sameen?" Root asks with a tripped breath from below her.

She pauses from where she's popping open the buttons on Root's shirt (of all the times to not wear a tee, the other _had_ to pick this day to wear one…), and looks into dark brown eyes that openly stare at her with something warm and reserved for her alone.

She quite honestly does not have the answer to that question.

(Simulation-Root has also never asked her that question.)

But she obliges. "What do you want it to be?"

More to the point, is this really the time for that? There's still Samaritan to take care of before anything else, before _even_ thinking about the lives they want to have - and right now, she's not really in the mood to _talk_ and more in the mood to get a particular hacker off. It's been - months.

 _Years_ , even, with how long she had been locked in simulations.

Seven thousand… Her jaw works as she shoves that thought to the back of her mind, resisting the urge to rub at the back of her neck. Root's still looking at her with those eyes, only now hands have risen to reach under her hoodie, scratching gently at her stomach with warm fingers. Holding her lightly, but not imprisoning.

Grounding her to reality.

She lets herself breathe and stare back into those eyes. Lets them tether her.

"You really want me to answer that?" Root asks flirtatiously, as if the moment where she wavered didn't happen.

"You really want to talk about this now?" Her fingers resumes their work of unbuttoning Root's shirt. She lets her knuckle graze against bare flesh purposefully, a rebuke for the other's tease.

"No time like the present." Root murmurs with a sharp breath, hands still on her hips even as Sameen deftly unclips the belt and lets it drop to the floor.

She huffs. "Am I doing all the work?" she asks, indicating the hands that still scratch at her stomach.

Root does raise an eyebrow at that, and Sameen can just _tell_ what sort of thing is going to come out of that mouth next. It's probably going to go something like, _do you want my hands doing something, sweetie?_ And screw that, because she's _not_ in the mood to be teased.

"Shut up," she says before Root can annoy her further, closing in and cutting off the gentle huff of laughter with a hungry kiss, letting a hand curl around the side of that slender neck, angling it so she can scrape her teeth down the skin and feel the racing heartbeat.

"You haven't told me what you want this to be," Sameen says, surprising herself as much as it surprises Root. She wants to know, suddenly, because she can't feel the way Root can, and there really isn't any point denying that this person beneath her has somehow become her safe place.

And it's not fair to Root. It just isn't.

Root's hand, one that at some point has migrated from her hip to slide between her hair, pulls off the already half-dropping scrunchie, letting her hair run loose.

The words murmured into her ear are soft. "I want this to be whatever you want it to be, Sameen."

She almost scowls. It's totally not the answer she wants from Root, and she doesn't like the question turned back on her like that. But it's Root, and there's genuine honesty in those words.

It's… it's what Root wants, and Sameen can see that.

She sighs into Root's collarbone instead, and lifts herself up as she says, "You are such a weirdo, nerd."

Root huffs out a chuckle again, seemingly entertained by the sudden insult thrown at her. See, _weird_.

But that's fine, she thinks, feeling a fire of some sort burn deep in the pit of her stomach. Root's beautiful when she's happy and amused like this, when there's this dim light catching at her skin in the darkness. Not that Root isn't hot when she's wielding two guns with wild, dangerous adrenaline flushing her cheeks and a trigger-happy smirk on her lips, but.

At this moment, under her fingertips, Root is soft and warm and _real_.

So that's fine.

She crashes their lips together and let Root anchors her to reality.

.

.

.

10.

Sameen doesn't touch Root again, not even to be sure she's real, until she has to: The bandages need to be changed, and the stitches needs checking.

She begins methodically, stripping off the shirt and unwrapping bandages with ease that comes from experience, at one point angling Root so that the taller woman is leaning against her to be better able to take off the bandage.

Root is warm, but so still and so quiet and weighs so little.

It sends anger rising back in her chest.

She eases Root back onto the bed gently after removing them, to check on the wounds.

The first one is by her hip, a through and through gunshot wound that seems to be healing up nicely.

The second one is located near the bottom of the ribcage - and Sameen can tell that the damned bullet had pierced right through the bone and into her lungs.

She stares at it longer than she should, brushing a clinical finger over it.

The stitches can come out probably in the next week or two, but there will be a permanent scar, and it'll be big. Whoever did the surgery on Root was forced to slice her open even more to dig out the bullet and repair the damage. This is the souvenir.

Proof that Root escaped death, if only barely.

Proof that Root almost died.

What an awful souvenir.

She steps back and has to pause for a moment, because something is flaring bright and hot in her chest, thumping in her blood; and she is filled with _rage_.

And that fury is split in so many directions that it threatens to make her head spin. Some is at Harold, some at Blackwell, some at the Machine, some at Samaritan, some at Greer, some at Control, some at herself, some at _Root_ for being the _fucking idiot that she is_ -

Her fist slams into the wooden desk and cracks it.

.

.

.

11.

Twice she contemplates turning the gun on herself, convinced it is a simulation, and twice that move brings up an argument between herself and Machine 2.0.

Inevitably, both times end with this:

" _Estimated survival rate of Samantha Groves with the departure of Sameen Shaw: 3.22%."_

She drops the gun back on the table with tension burning her shoulders and fire brimming beneath her skin.

She feels like she's falling.

"Goddamn _you_."

She wants Root to wake up _now_.

.

.

.

12.

Root sleeps on, oblivious, long enough that Sameen finally sets a routine for herself to do because she'd die of boredom otherwise. Daily workouts. Dismantling and reassembling a random weapon three times a day. Take Bear out on walks. Listen to the rustling trees. Hunt every couple days, when she discovers that there's game to hunt for in the area.

Sometimes it feels like being back at ISA, when she had to go deep undercover and make people know her as what her identity had been set to be. She knows what to turn her mindset to, how to switch off one thing and turn on another to make her covers work.

It's not hard. Just boring, sometimes. Easy even, since she doesn't have to actually make herself known.

Her mind feels a little less muddled with every passing day and each routine performed. And after a while, the sharp sting at the back of her ear disappears.

But some days, she does nothing but sit on the couch opposite the bed holding Root, listening to the heart monitor, and watching the rise and fall of that chest.

Those days her hand flies up to the back of her ear to rub at it.

Root never wakes up throughout it all.

A month and a half passes before Delphine drops by, bearing documentations (to be destroyed after reading), identity cards, passports and miscellaneous items for both Root and her. The work of a certain Machine, that's for sure.

The house they're in right now is a so-called vacation home under her name and Root's. They also have a place in the nearby city, and they have paperwork and histories going all the way back toNew York.

The fabricated cover stories for both of them is detailed and thorough. It's something she can appreciate, especially if there are emergencies, such as if Root needs a hospital. And really, Sameen _doesn't_ mind all these, because they make sense.

Sameen does mind that Root and her are _married_.

She drops the two white gold rings on the table, watching them spin and clatter.

"I'm going to break your servers. With the axe. Like how I turn those logs into _splinters_."

" _Would you have preferred if your relationship is that of a half-sibling? I'm afraid actual siblings may be a bit too far-fetched to be believable if you were to be questioned one day, and there must be a believable reason why you are taking time to care for Root."_

She feels a headache forming. "No."

" _Step-sibling, perhaps?"_

That sounds _terrible_. She pinches the bridge of her nose and growls. " _No_. Just... Nevermind. Forget it." She doesn't even want to think about the look Root will have when she wakes up and finds out they're married.

" _When you believe Root to be well enough for transportation, you should return to the city."_

She drums her fingers against the table, not disagreeing. It makes sense to do so, especially since resources are more readily accessible there than where they are currently at, where there's nothing nearby. And she wouldn't be as _bored_ , because if the Machine is hinting to return, that means she might get to shoot some people after all.

Plus, there's no Samaritan anymore.

She rubs at the back of her ear.

"Why wasn't a cover set for Root when she first arrived?"

There's a pause.

" _I don't think my predecessor had the time or resources to set it up freely, with Samaritan watching. That Canada is not within her jurisdiction makes it harder."_ Another pause. _"It took me some time to set all these up, as well, largely because of my limitations working outside United States."_

She heaves out a long, tired sigh.

So. Troublesome. And _annoying_.

When the hell is Root going to wake up?

Before, it was waiting around to see if Root had any fun missions for her to be involved in. Sometimes it was her waiting to patch up the stupid idiot when she's too reckless. During her captivity, it was her waiting for Root to get her out of Samaritan's grip. And now, she's waiting for Root to wake up.

It's ridiculous.

It seems like, no matter the reason, she's always going to be waiting for _Root_ to do something.

She snatches the rings from the table, puts one on her finger, stomps over to Root, and puts one on hers too.

.

.

.

13.

The day when Sameen commandeers a big car (the machine made her rich, so why should she care about the cost?) to transport Root back to the city is the day Root wakes up.

It happens while she just only lifted Root off the wheelchair, to better able carry her into the vehicle.

"...Shaw?"

It's a soft croak, and Sameen freezes, head turning slowly to meet the bleary, confused eyes of the woman in her arms.

Root's eyes are that warm, familiar brown, with the reflection of the sunlight in them. Her brows furrow as she squints, and she burrows her head into Sameen's shoulder to hide from that blinding light.

The sun catches in curls of dark brown hair, turning them a light golden brown, and soaking into pale skin that suddenly seems so much more alive.

"Too… bright…" Root complains, a pout in her croaky voice. "Where are...we?"

Sameen barks out a disbelieving laugh that she couldn't stop herself from releasing.

Root's awake.

The idiot's finally _awake_ , and then she's complaining about the sun, and she's _pouting_ into her shoulder.

Sameen just can't believe it. All this time, and _this_ is how it happens?

She breathes in the cool air, pulls the disoriented woman closer into her, and drops her head so it can rest against Root's, feeling suddenly resigned.

"Your timing really, really _sucks_ , Root."

Root's mouth twitches like it's about to form a smile. "I… know."

She huffs out another chuckle. Goddamnit, Root.

It's not going to be easy to deal with this person, Sameen knows. Root doesn't yet know what has happened with the Machine and Samaritan, having slept for so long and during the climax of the war they had, even if she is probably the main reason there is a Machine 2.0.

Root doesn't know how much time she's lost.

Root doesn't know who died, lived, and disappeared.

It's not going to be easy.

But that's okay, Sameen thinks. That's okay, because Root's finally awake, and she can so pin this woman down if Root becomes troublesome in the coming days.

She breathes, and her head clears.

. . . .

. . .

. .

.

* * *

A/N - Er.. heh. Hi to the Shoot fandom for the first time?

Many thanks to birdhymns for helping look into this and fix the multiple grammatical errors that I have; never been my forte there, unfortunately.

If you got the reference from Orphan Black and enjoyed it, I'm glad. If you don't see the reference, it's nothing to be concerned about either - it's not meant to be a significant plot point. I should also say that I haven't done nor looked into programming in a long time, so if whatever I suggested isn't technically possible, er… oops?

And I probably should also mention I've a companion story in Root's POV… of sorts… in the works. Don't give me that look! D: I don't know, there's something about these two that makes me want to write them…

Ahem. Anyway. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you've enjoyed this post canon fix-it fic. Kudos, comments, criticisms - all of them are very welcome. Let me know what you think?


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